“Let’s see…and this was when you implemented the volunteer program?” Butter Scotch tapped her pen against her clipboard. She had fetched a meal for the pair as well. They spoke respectfully over a breakfast of pony-grown greens and vegetables.

“Yes,” was Jachs’ simple reply, as he licked his lips clean. “It was simple enough to vet prospects. Of course, E.L.F. infiltrators were a concern, but generally most volunteers were fairly loyal. When they saw they got more rations and an exemption from the love tax, we’d secured the simple and selfish ponies. When they saw they could choose how to treat the ponies under them-- and they could be much more lenient than the ‘jackbooted changeling oppressors’ we secured the bleeding hearts and the ponies who only wanted to do right by their people. Then, the pony volunteers set an example for the rest of the Heer and everyone benefitted.”

Jachs took a self-indulgent swig of his freshly filled glass of whisky. Butter Scotch raised an eye ridge-- but he waved her off. It was five o’ clock somewhere in the world. “You make it sound pragmatic,” the pony questioned. “But it wasn’t really JUST a pragmatic decision, was it?”

“No.” Was Jachs’ equally simple reply. “With my recent appointment to the position of governor, I needed a win to cement my promotion. If I faltered-- Chrysalis would have second thoughts, and…I’m not sure my replacement would share my opinion on sensible policy making.” He shrugged. “I suppose there was a selfish aspect to it.”

“And,” the pony continued, “you got a bunch of jobs for jobless, starving ponies in a war torn hell hole.”

Jachs rolled his eyes. “You make me sound like I’m some sort of saint.” Despite himself, there was a bit of a flush to his cheeks. “It wasn’t that bad-- most of the civilian infrastructure in Canterlot was intact, and what wasn’t I’d ordered rebuilt quickly. Only a couple months after the war ended and Canterlot, minus the changeling trident flags, looked just as pristine as ever.”

“What about Second Wind?” Butter Scotch interjected. “Did you meet him around this time?”

“Oh- yes, I did. Good soldier, loyal, one of my most trusted command- ahem, kommandants.” His chitin hoof slipped upwards to rest quizzically against Jachs’ chin. “I met him-- well, do you have the time?”

Butter Scotch only smiled and took her pen in a magical grip.

-From “Memoirs Of A Changed Changeling” by Herr Jachs, Canterlot press, Equestrian Protectorate, 1,045.

Second Wind overlooked a legion of pony volunteers, marching up and down the canterlot gardens. As an ex-royal guard, he had the most experience of any pony here with marching in formation. “In step- fillies, you aren’t can-can girls are you!? In step! Left- right, left-right, left-right!” His voice boomed across the garden as he gave his orders from the balcony overlook. Quietly, he shook his head.

The new canterlot royal guard was a mockery of the old. Where they’d once worn the proud alicorn crest, now a changeling trident graced the ponies’ armour. Where once they were adorned in proud gold, now they were dressed in blackened shock-style armour that mimicked the elites of the Heer.

Second Wind found it distasteful, of course, but then again…as a pony in the royal guard, he never had much chance of excelling. He was born poor, raised poor, and kept squarely on the outside of the old royal guard. Only those of noble bloodline could ascend the old ranks, but now, well. Now his skills and experience were finally being properly recognized.

He himself didn’t wear a Guardsman’s uniform. He had on the gray of the Heer. An officer’s uniform-- though, he thought it didn’t quite mesh well with his bright yellow fur, it did cut a striking figure. He sucked in his gut and flexed his wings as he lifted a hoof, trailing it down the gray fabric. Even if it was the enemies’ it still felt nice to wear a uniform again-- and be proud of it.

He cocked a sly smile as they moved to a right column and made no mistakes. It was a start.

“Kommandant,”

Second wind was shaken from his internal monologue by a feminine voice. Turning on his hooves he brought his right up in a salute. “Oberstleutnant Alcippe.”

Her bright purple eyes were always a welcome sight. In her magical grip she held aloft a clipboard, and in that little clipboard were held the fates of his and all his soldiers' lives. Yet, she carried that responsibility with such respect Second Wind could not have imagined a changeling doing just a scant few weeks ago. She was an attentive yet casual superior officer. She allowed him to lead as he saw fit without micromanaging-- but she gave him guidance and kept him apprised of the expectations the Queen would have.

To Second Wind, this professionalism was a welcome change of pace compared to the hands-off ‘leadership’ style of the old guard, if one could call it that. Since his joining, she'd well-earned his respect.

She waved her own hoof in an ‘at ease’ gesture. “I see you’ve wasted no time. You’ve made excellent progress with the new recruits.”

“Indeed. Though I’m afraid you’d have an easier time teaching stray cats to march in formation.” Second Wind returned to his resting stance overlooking the plaza.

Alcippe chuckled. “Regardless-- Governor Jachs has asked to see you in his office when you get a moment.”

Second Wind nodded his assent. “Only good things, I hope, Oberstleutnant.” Second Wind replied professionally, his gaze fixed firmly on the formation below him.

“Only good things.” She repeated. “On a personal note-- I must say, I am impressed. Personally, that is,” she reiterated. “Professionally I believe I’m not quite allowed to have an opinion yet, so-- mmmh, do keep this just between us.” She shrugged disarmingly, telekinetically tapping her pen into her horn as she glanced out over the recruits. Second Wind saw her check a few things from her clipboard.

“The Heer and its never ending regulations.” Second Wind yawned exaggeratedly. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d go insane with all that paperwork.”

“Coffee, alcohol, and migraine medication in equal measure.” Her voice was even-- in that enjoyable ‘trilling’ way changelings speak when they’re pretending to be serious. The pegasus found himself smiling.

Then, he felt a pit in his stomach. Guilt? Perhaps if they’d met before the war they could have been friends. He’d have liked that.

Banishing the thought with a silent shake of his head, he quickly returned “Tell the Generalmajor I’ll be up just as soon as these layabouts learn to column-right without slamming into a wall. I’m sure it won’t take long.” He winked. “And if it does, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Jachs glanced across the orders on his desk. All usual stuff- logistics requests, complaints about not being harsh enough, the officers whining that the soldiers are whining. Military equivalents of junk mail-- except, he arched an eyeridge, taking hold of an order bearing the Vesalipolis seal. Not unlike the one he’d just placed at the opposite end of his desk. He did a double-take to make sure he hadn’t accidentally swapped its place before cracking open the seal.

It was a reinforcement request for the Queen’s guard-- but oddly, they only wanted reinforcements for the Canterlot mines. That was strange indeed-- stranger still, why this missive contained no reason for the requested reinforcements. A misprint? Well, he’s not signing his name to something without knowing the reasoning. If the guard really needed reinforcements they could damn well ask him personally. He balled the missive up with his magic and tossed it casually into the waste bin at the foot of his desk.

Before he could contemplate it further, a knock at his door interrupted him. “Come in!” He called, and none other than that promising new kommandant himself opened the door.

He was about to say something but Jachs interrupted him excitedly “Ah-- just the pony I wanted to see! Sit down, sit down.” Jachs fished around on his desk for the letter- the one with the Capital’s seal upon it.

“Uh, It’s good to see you too, sir.” Second Wind chuckled, tugging at his collar with a hoof. “Can’t remember the last time-” But he was interrupted by a small envelope, bearing the bright blue royal Vesalipolis seal being levitated in front of his face. He went cross-eyed trying to focus on it.

Jachs’ chitin black hooves formed a triangle as he spoke. He tried to maintain a semblance of professionalism but even Second Wind could tell he was genuinely giddy. “The queen has approved, personally, your entry into the officer corps-- and the formation of the volunteer regiments. You are no longer just an auxiliary, kommandant.” Jachs grinned, "Welcome to the Heer.”

Second Wind snatched the envelope out of the air and almost tore into it. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.” He scanned the paper- and then reread it, and then read it again. “Look at that. A few weeks with you and I’ve already managed to outrank my old position in the guard.”

At that Jachs couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well-- your name is Second Wind, after all. Auspicious, isn’t it?”

The pony shrugged. “Nominative determinism? I don’t believe in fate, but it is funny how our names work out sometimes” Second Wind rolled his eyes. “You think you could find me a couple ponies with names like ‘Marching Order’ or ‘About Face?’”

The pair shared a laugh, and even a couple smiles. For a moment, Jachs was reminded of his time back in the jaegers, joking and camaraderie around the fire late into the Equestrian winter.

“And now the bad news,” Jachs spoke up with a quick shake of his head- not quite letting himself dip into melancholy. “Chrysalis wants to…ahem, tour Canterlot again, and inspect the volunteer regiments personally.”

“Uggh,” Second Wind let his head thump down onto his forehooves exaggeratedly. There was enough force behind it that It shook Jachs’ desk. “Why can’t anything ever just be good news?”

“She’s actually not so bad when she’s not mad at you. I imagine she’ll want to talk to you personally. So, easy solution- just don’t make her mad at you.” Jachs cracked a half smile.

Second wind raised his head from the desk and let it rest on one hoof as he closed his eyes in thought. “Just once, only good news.” He repeated, throwing his head back, breathless and evidently beyond all help.

“We take the bad with the good in the Heer, Kommandant.” Jachs was quick to correct him. “The bad? The Queen wants to make sure you’re up to snuff. The good? If you are, this could begin a cascade effect. Once she sees the ponies eagerly supporting her, you know, then there’d be even less reason to keep a firm hoof on them.”

“I…see your point.” Second Wind was quick to nod in assent. “Show her that we’re loyal and maybe earn a few more rights back in thanks?”

That stung. ”I wish it was something more concrete and- less…degrading,” Jachs let a bit of his guilt slip into his tone as he spoke. “But the truth of the matter is she’s a vain woman-- and simply, when she sees ponies loyal to her she’s more likely to see them as actual citizens instead of just as the enemy.”

“Or a resource to be harvested.” Second wind was quick to add. “Still, thank you, Generalmajor. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Jachs bore a frown and began to grind his teeth. “I wish-” he started, and then cut himself off. “I…if there was something more I could do.” The rest of his declaration went unsaid, but Second Wind understood completely.

The pegasus was quiet for a moment, twiddling the paper between his hooves. The silence sat for nearly a full minute. “Can I ask you something, sir?” He spoke up suddenly.

“Of course,” The changeling leaned in, propping his fores against his desk. “Anything, Herr Kommandant. I keep an open door policy.”

Second Wind softly smiled at the proper addressing of his rank but his voice- and mood, were low. “Is…is it always going to be like this? Is there anything we can do to change things?” Second Wind’s voice wavered and Jachs narrowed his eyes.

The generalmajor did not have a response prepared. Royal etiquette training with Alcippe kicked in on instinct, and he deflected. “We do what we can.” A non-answer, with no meaning beyond empty platitudes. Jachs furrowed his brow at himself. “That’s-- let me rephrase,” he quickly cut himself off, banishing that line of propagandist corporate-speak.

Clearing his throat, he continued. “One day things will change, Kommandant. I don’t know when-- but old loyalties will die out, and eventually this won’t be the nation of changelings. It’ll be the Equestrian-Changeling Queendom. A hundred years from now- two hundred, that’s a certainty.”

“In the short-term though?” Second Wind piped up, an uncertain grimace on his face as if he was dreading the answer.

“That, I don’t know.” Jachs sighed solemnly. “Look-- you’re in the Canterlot palace. You-- a pony. That alone is a miracle compared to where we were a month ago.” The changelings' hoof tapped impertinently into his desk. “We’re progressing, is what I mean. It’s slow and gradual but it’s progress.”

Second Wind nodded in understanding. “So- we just grin and bear it for now?”

“And do what you can,” Jachs corrected. “The volunteers will have as much authority as any other soldier of the Heer.” The changeling shot Second Wind a sly little wink. “And as much agency in deciding how to go about their job.”

Second Wind had to smile. “You’re…telling me to…?”

Jachs lifted a hoof to his lips in a ‘shh’ motion. “I’m telling you…that I don’t always read incident reports very closely-- and if for instance, you didn’t really gang up on and beat down a bunch of teenagers spraypainting resistance slogans, but noted it down in your report-- that I, being the very busy changeling I am, would trust you and sign off on it without reading it. Even if in fact you simply gave them a stern talking to. You see?”

The pegasus shook his head in a grin. “How the hell did you get this job?” He exasperatedly asked, suppressing a chuckle.

“I do my job very well, I'll have you know.” Jachs shot a mock-glare into his kommandant’s eyes. “My job, despite all evidence to the contrary, is to keep Canterlot stable and my citizens safe. Ponies will be much less inclined to rebellion if they’re safe, fed, housed, and working.”

“Can’t argue that.” Second Wind leaned back in his chair, forehooves crossed over one another in thought. “You know Generalmajor, you’re not quite what I expected in a changeling occupier.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Kommandant.” Jachs smiled and shook his head. “For now though I need to get back to work. Alcippe will let you know the details of the Queen’s visit later.”

Second Wind gave a respectful nod and turned to leave. As he stepped from Jachs’ tiny office and into the empty throne room itself he caught himself feeling pride. It felt good to set an example. Maybe a better future really was possible.

Maybe in the end, it won’t be such a bad thing the changelings won.

Finishing his work for the day, Generalmajor Jachs glanced at the clock on the wall. One in the morning. His forehoof traveled up to rest on his temple, and he massaged it with a long and drawn out sigh. Fatigue ate at him, but he wasn’t about to spend another night sleeping on his desk.

From his little office adjacent to the throne room, Jachs stepped out into the dark. They’d forgotten to light the braziers before leaving, it seems. The only light coming in was moonlight cutting through stained glass windows, reliefs of the old princesses and the Element Bearers.

It was quiet at night now. They had to ban anyone but officers from the throne room proper after Equestrian artifacts kept coming up ‘missing’ at the end of Heer guard rotations. Jachs was struck by the sheer silence of it.

He tapped his hoof against the marble flooring and let the echo sound around the room, he glanced up to the throne at the end of the room. In truth, it was more like a pedestal. Three great golden rings, upon which Celestia’s advisors once sat, rising upwards and shortening in circumference about a meter with each ring. At the very top ring center was the throne itself. Like the topping to a royal golden layer cake. A red carpet ran from it to the entrance door.

Jachs had never really looked at the throne before. It always seemed taboo to him to do more than a passing glance, for some reason. As if the empty chair was judging him.

The Generalmajor didn’t know what exactly he was doing- or why he was doing it, but he found himself approaching the empty throne. There, lit by the moon and painted in translucent reds of stained glass mosaics sat the inheritor of Canterlot. Jachs felt the strange urge to bow. To nothing.

The throne was empty-- he told himself, shaking his head. This was silly. Why was he here?

But that wasn’t true. Celestia’s shadow still perched on that throne. She still held court. She still passed judgment on her subjects. She still gave guidance to those who asked.

She still punished those who couldn’t be redeemed.

This is the place where she’d received the news of the war breaking out. It was as if Jachs could still feel the emotions in the air. The creeping despair as the frontline approached Canterot, the desperation, fear…that final, desperate last stand at Canterlot. The last stand that he had broken. Then, sheer terror.

This throne was empty because of him. It would always be. He will carry this until the day he dies. Instead of adding to the world, he had taken from it. Instead of making the world a better place, he cut out its heart and left nothing but tyranny in its stead.

It didn’t matter what he did now. It could be a perfect world. Everyone equal, pony and changeling-- everyone. Griffons, yaks, deer too.

Jachs approached the throne. He climbed the rings until he reached the top, and stared at the empty spot Princess Celestia once ruled from.

It could be a perfect world.

Jachs fell face first into the throne- his forehooves catching himself as he leaned against the seat, bracing himself against the red velvet cushions. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded to nought but dead air. “I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked. Jachs’ eyes closed, and his forehooves wrapped around the Throne’s armrest. He braced his forehead against it. “I’m sorry.” He spoke a dry, hoarse prayer.

The silence was his answer.

He stayed there until at last Luna embraced him. The inheritor of Canterlot and Generalmajor in the changeling army slumped pathetically against the throne, exhaustion dragging him into a restless, fatigued and uncomfortable sleep.

Celestia didn’t hear him. She was not there to absolve him of his innumerable sins- nor would she return. She wouldn’t even care to hear a changeling. They were all monsters- every last one, monsters. They had invaded peaceful people, broken and subjugated them. They were responsible for so much death, so much terror. Why didn’t they lose? Weren’t the bad guys always supposed to lose?

It could be a perfect world.

And this throne would still be empty.

Author's Note

Disclaimer: not my characters, not my story

This story is based on the 'Pax Chrysalia' storyline from the EAW mod's changeling lands ending. It is simply a passion project to patch some holes in the story and bring about a more satisfying (in my opinion) ending. It is not a replacement to playing the game and in fact I recommend you to.